To Kill a King: Book One
by AeAe
Summary: Imogen had eagerly awaited the day she would attend Hogwarts since her sister received her letter three years before. She imagined learning about magic alongside a best friend or two and graduating to become a Healer like her uncle... but things are never quite so simple at Hogwarts, especially not for friends of the Boy-Who-Lived.


Fidgeting on her sandaled feet, Imogen let her eyes rove over the crowd littering Platform 9 ¾. Witches and wizards of all sorts were gathered there that day- some soft and dressed in unusual colours combinations like lime-green and magenta, and some stiff and dark as stick figures.

She had met this sort of crowd four times already, having followed her older sister through the column separating the normal station and the magical station-within-a-station. The first time she saw so many magical folk all together in one place, her face had turned so red with excitement that her aunt thought she had fallen ill and ushered her back out within a few minutes, her good-bye to Maddie that year no more than a quick hug and kiss.

The next year, Imogen was a bit more prepared for the onslaught. Her uncle kept a tight grip on her hand that year, though he did indulge her enough to walk a quick loop around the platform so that Maddie could take in the large assortment of people. She returned home that day bouncing in the back seat of the car, her excited questions shooting out of her faster than her fondly exasperated relatives could hope to answer.

Her third year, Imogen was ten years old and now allowed to roam by herself as long as she never went so far that her aunt couldn't see her. Her sister, used to Imogen's behaviour by the train, made sure to give Imogen a big, wet kiss on the cheek and a too tight hug as soon as they crossed the barrier. Maddie let her go with a look Imogen recognized, a resignation that she would likely have embarrassed her sister, only to see Imogen beaming. A letter from her aunt a week later let her know that Imogen was over the moon to know that Maddie wasn't embarrassed of _her_ \- that Imogen was more excited to go to Hogwarts the next year now more than ever.

Now, her fourth year on the platform, Imogen felt her first shred of doubt fill her up. She had never gone past the platform before onto the train, and beyond that was Hogwarts. It was alright visiting and seeing magic so alive for a half hour, but to spend nearly a whole year surrounded by it… what if she didn't fit in? What if no one wanted to be her friend, and Imogen had to hang out with her sister all year? She couldn't imagine anything more disheartening than pulling Maddie away from her happy life at Hogwarts just because Imogen was too awkward to make friends of her own.

A hand dropped solidly onto her shoulder, and Imogen followed its arm up to the kind face of her uncle. He gave her a warm smile and pulled her into his side, anchoring her as he tended to do. "It's curious, you know, that you're still here. I quite expected you to run onto the train without remembering to kiss Tawnie good-bye," he told her, an unasked question hidden in his words.

"I'm nervous," Imogen admitted in a small voice. "What if I don't fit in?"

Seeming to overhear the conversation, her aunt turned from her warnings to Maddie to look worriedly instead at Imogen. Stepping closer, she bent down and tucked Imogen's short blonde hair behind her ear with an earnest smile. "Darling, why wouldn't you fit in? You're a wonderful girl, I'm sure you'll have more friends than you can count before you know it."

Imogen wished she could say that her aunt Tawnie's words untangled the knot of nerves in her stomach, but if anything, the knot grew tighter. Seeming to sense her growing unease, it was then that Maddie stepped in.

"I was really nervous my first day, you know," said Maddie with an air of reminiscence, as if it had been a decade ago rather than three years. "I thought it would take ages to make a friend, but then I met Libbie right on the train, didn't I? Everyone's a little scared today. If anything, it makes finding friends that much easier," she assured Imogen, tugging her right away from their guardians.

Imogen's arms twitched, ready to flail back to the safety of Uncle Alex's hold, but she stopped herself short. After stepping onto that big red train, running to Alex wouldn't be an option at all. It was time to be a big girl and face the train as bravely as her sister had.

Maddie grinned broadly at Alex and Tawnie and Imogen did her best to fix her expression into as similar a beam as her sister's, though she reckoned she looked rather like she needed to puke instead. Tawnie looked like she itched to grab her camera, but her husband swooping in to pull both her nieces into a bone-breaking hug.

"Remember to do all your homework an study hard, and try to write to us at least every two weeks. You know how I worry," he said before placing a kiss on both of their heads and letting them go, looking rather teary-eyed. Tawnie quickly took his place, muttering similar requests and kissing them both on the cheek at least a dozen times before letting them go.

"See you at Christmas!" Maddie said before tugging Imogen away from their adults and leading her onto the train. Once the two were aboard, Maddie turned again to Imogen, this time looking a bit more worried than she had let on in front of their guardians. "If you can't find someone to sit with or just want to, you can come sit with me and my friends, alright? None of us would mind at all."

Though her words comforted Imogen a little, the offer a much-needed safety net, Imogen knew that this would be her best chance to make friends before people started forming cliques, like Maddie had complained they did in her year. "I'll be okay," Imogen said quietly but firmly. The sisters shared a smile before parting ways, Maddie striding confidently down to where she could hear her rambunctious friends while Imogen slowly tottered in the opposite direction.

A good number of compartments were full of upperclassmen, something Imogen had no interest in. Fewer held students she could assume were in first-year, but most of those were already full or close-to. It wasn't until she had nearly reached the end that she found a compartment with only two boys within, both looking rather friendly though nerves clearly were working overtime underneath their skin as well.

Holding her breath, Imogen slid open the door to their compartment. Both boys' heads snapped quickly in her direction, and she gave them a nervous smile which the dark haired boy quickly returned. "Hi," she started, her voice accidentally a bit loud. She made sure to speak at a more normal volume as she continued. "D'you mind if I sit with you?"

Both heads nodded in what seemed to be accidental unison, both boys now smiling politely. Imogen felt relief hit her like a wall of rain, and the dense knot in her stomach loosened somewhat. "Thank you," she said in a rush, stepping inside and letting the door slide shut behind her. "I'm Imogen. Um, King. What're your names?" She asked them as she carefully sat herself in the left corner closest to the door, on the same side as the redheaded boy.

"Ron Weasley," the boy answered, his lips twisted into a smile that became even brighter as he introduced the compartment's other occupant. "And this here's Harry Potter!" His eyes held a glint of expectation in them, like he already anticipated what Imogen's next line would be. Sadly, Imogen didn't know it.

"Pleased to meet you both," said Imogen brightly as she pulled her legs up so that she could sit cross-legged in her seat. It was then that the train gave a great lurch, Imogen's stomach following suit. The starting of the train seemed to mark the end of conversation for the trio, all three's attention drawn to the window as the scene outside slowly changed.

Imogen wasn't bothered by the silence—the air in the compartment didn't seem awkward or stilted, all three simply happy enough to watch the fields and lanes flick past the large window. It wasn't until just past noon that their silence was broken by a loud clatter outside their door a moment before it was slid open by a matronly woman.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" She asked, smiling a dimpled grin at the three of them. Ron shook his head, muttering something about sandwiches, but Harry jumped up to his feet and followed the woman out into the corridor. Not having any money herself for sweets, Imogen simply went back to staring out the window until Harry came back in a minute later, arms laden with treats that he dumped onto his seat.

Both Imogen and Ron stared at the stockpile with wide eyes, taken aback by the size of the pile. "Hungry, are you?" Ron asked.

"Starving," Harry responded as he ripped open the packaging of a pumpkin pasty and took a large bite.

Across from him, Ron pulled out a small package and opened it to reveal the sandwiches he had muttered about—they didn't look particularly appetising to Imogen, and if Ron's grimace said anything, he agreed. "Mum always forgets I don't like corned beef," he lamented quietly.

"Swap you for one of these," Harry said as he held up one of his many unopened pasties. "Go on—"

Ron was quick to interrupt. "You don't want this, it's all dry," he said. "She hadn't got much time, you know, with five of us," he quickly added, clearly not wanting to speak ill of his hard-working mother.

"Go on, have one." Harry said firmly, still holding the pasty out to Ron who tentatively took it. "Would you like one too, Imogen?

Imogen, who had been silently watching the exchange and not expecting Harry to offer to her as well, gave a startled smile. "Oh—are you sure?" She asked, receiving a wordless response of Harry nodded and holding a pasty out for her as well. Nearly overjoyed by the show of friendship, Imogen gladly took it from him with a bright smile. "Thanks, this is one of my favourites."

The three of them kept on eating Harry's stash, chatting animatedly as they did. Imogen shared a story of her sister and uncle having a contest to see who could eat the most Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans without spitting a single out, a story which Ron laughed at but Harry needed more explanation for, as Imogen learned he had been raised by Muggles and thus didn't know the extent of the candies foul tastes.

"What are these?" Harry asked as he held up a pack of Chocolate Frogs after Imogen explained the beans. "They're not really frogs, are they?" He asked, looking at the chocolates with a look of near resignation. Imogen couldn't help but giggle, leaving Ron to take over the explanation.

"No, they're not really frogs. But see what card it is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know— Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect. Famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa of Ptolemy."

"My aunt's collected them all," Imogen told the boys, thinking of the striped box kept on the bookshelf next to the hardly opened cookbooks.

"Wicked," Ron said, looking surprised but impressed at the same time.

"So this is Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, having unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and taking out the card inside.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron as he reached for a frog of his own, offering one to Imogen as well which she politely refused—she was already stuffed to the brim with sweets and couldn't even imagine filling her belly with anything more.

Imogen watched as Harry read Dumbledore's card, clearly having not heard of Dumbledore much, as incredulous as Ron seemed to be about that. When he turned the card back over, disappointment flashed behind his glasses. Imogen could already tell that he had not figured that Dumbledore would leave the card. He exclaimed as such, and Imogen smiled.

"They do that. You can't really expect him to hang around all day, can you? He'll be back, though," she assured.

"Darn, I've got Morgana again and I've already got about six of her… do you want her, Harry? You can start collecting." Ron interrupted and held his card out to Harry, who took it without looking much at it like he had Dumbledore's.

"You know, in the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos," Harry said, putting down the Morgana card to pay attention once more to Dumbledore's. Imogen wondered what his fascination with him was.

"What, they don't move at all?" Ron asked, sounding amazed at the thought of it. " _Weird!_ "

Imogen, who despite being raised by a witch and wizard, lived in Muggle London and thus knew all about immobile pictures. They had a few around the house, and her uncle was always bewitching and un-bewitching their moving photos based on the company they had round for dinner.

Before Harry could say anything else, a round-faced and rather tearful boy came in. "Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?" He asked hopefully, but all three shook their heads. His face dropped. "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Imogen said, trying to smile comfortingly at the boy.

"Yes," he said miserably, Imogen's words going right past him. "Well, if you see him…" with that, he left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron said once the door had slid closed after him. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." They all looked to Ron's rat who had been snoozing on his lap for the entirety of the trip. "He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," he continued, his face all screwed up in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday, y'know, to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

Ron rummaged around in his trunk for a moment before pulling out a battered wand.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway—"

He was interrupted by the compartment door sliding open, this time revealing both a bushy-haired girl and the same sad boy from minutes before. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said, a bossy sort of tone to her voice.

"We've already told him that we haven't seen it," Ron replied, not quite unfriendly but clearly not thrilled at the second interruption. Like Imogen's had before with Neville, Ron's words seemed to float right by the girl.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat down, and Ron and Imogen shared a slightly taken aback look.

"Er—well, alright." He cleared his throat and put his attention back to the dozing rat on his lap. " _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow—Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow_." His spell had no affect, though Imogen thought the waving of his wand had looked rather official even if his words seemed a bit silly.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Asked the girl, a bit haughty now. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was quite the surprise when I got my letter. I was pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard—I've learned all of our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough—I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Imogen, who had listened to the fast ramblings of the girl with wide eyes, barely knew the answer—she was too busy wondering if she maybe should have opened her schoolbooks before today.

"I'm Ron Weasley," the redhead muttered, looking about as stunned as Imogen.

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" Asked Hermione. "I know all about you, of course—I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?" said Harry, and suddenly Ron's expectant look when introducing Harry made sense.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her and clearly not bothered that she had plowed on without waiting for Imogen to introduce herself as the boys had. Imogen wasn't particularly bothered by it, either—Hermione seemed to be quite the whirlwind of a girl.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron, and Imogen smiled. Apparently Ron had been about as charmed by the girl as Imogen had been—that being, not at all. Imogen much preferred the light, fun atmosphere that surrounded her and the two boys she was quickly considering friends.

If things stayed just like this, well—Imogen thought she wouldn't mind that at all.


End file.
